


The Dairy Job

by alyricaldreamer



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 00:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyricaldreamer/pseuds/alyricaldreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leverage Secret Santa Gift for seraphina_snape. Quinn comes to collect on the favour he is owed by Eliot and the team travels to Alabama to save the livelihood of Quinn's family farm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let's Go Steal Some Milk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seraphina_snape](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/gifts).



> MERRY CHRISTMAS SERAPHINA_SNAPE!!!! I hope you enjoy the story!!   
> Although I don't think it's one of my best works (for which I apologise), I THOROUGHLY enjoyed writing this and was so glad when I got a prompt with Quinn!!!!   
> So, the story is very Quinn -centric and I really hope you enjoy it and, most importantly, have a very, very merry Christmas.

The job was painfully routine, almost unbelievably so. They’d approached the mark, gotten the evidence they’d needed and handed him over to the cops. Or, rather, the mark had handed himself on a silver platter to the local cops in order to avoid who he thought was a local branch of Nigerian mob. It was smooth, easy, and allowed for some down time at the brewery.

It was quiet mostly, as it usually was on a Thursday afternoon, and Eliot was using the time to experiment with food in the kitchen, and try and match some of Hardison’s moronic choice of beer with something other than pizza, and mac and cheese. Hardison, between the occasional attacks from Eliot, sat at his computer, alternating between playing obscure computer games, and fixing up ID’s and backstopping any identities they may need. Parker, close by, toyed absentmindedly with some locks as she poured over the blueprints for a new, state of the art, safe. It wasn’t perfect of course, and she expected when she tried it out for real in a few nights time, she could crack it in seven minutes flat.

Nate, sitting in one of the booths, as usual, scoured over some client files as he nursed a glass of Irish in his hand as Sophie, tongue poking out in concentration, looked at head shots of some budding actresses and actors, trying to decide on the lead for her next play. They were peacefully content, each doing their own thing, until they were distracted by the customer walking through the front door.

Eliot noticed it first, the unusual gait and heavy footfall were distinctive enough to cause him to glance through the servery window out into the shallow crowd of customers. Nate was the second to notice, taking what was at first a casual glance over his file to suss out the new customer, before directing all of his attention to the man. Sophie, noticing Nate’s change in demeanour was third to glance over at the man, followed by Parker and Hardison as he sat down at their table, making himself at home.

“What are you doing here?” Eliot asked, walking out of the kitchen as nonchalantly as he could, a knife hanging casually by his side.

“You owe me a favour if I remember correctly, I came to collect,” Quinn replied, a cocky grin on his face.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I don’t much like going into my history, I’m sure you can understand that Eliot.” Nate passed the man a beer and settled into a seat. The team had moved from their separate places around the pub, to seats around one of their larger tables in the middle of the room, all eyes curiously staring at Quinn. Although he hid it well, it was clear he was uncomfortable. There was an anxious tick to his movements, his leg shaking up and down constantly. He was on edge too, not your typical hitter on edge but a constant state of deep concern that he couldn’t shake free.

“I do,” Eliot agreed gruffly. “But we ain’t gonna go ‘round blabbin’ about you to people.” Quinn nodded slowly at the reassurance while, beside him, Nate nodded in agreement.

Quinn hesitated, clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. After a soft smile from Sophie, he began. “I grew up in Alabama, on a dairy farm of all places,” he offered a reminiscent smile as he took a sip of beer. “Town was always a little small for me so I left, pretty much as soon as I could. Fast forward fifteen years, my family’s still running the farm and it’s all going well until I get a call from my little sister, Cath. The local processing plan changed management six months or so, it used to be run by locals but they sold it off to some corporate shit house who decide they’re going to lower their price per gallon by a third so they could improve their profit margin. A _third,_ ” he repeated, subtle anger now evidence in his voice. “They can’t live of that, they’re barely surviving after the GFC as it is.”

“They can’t negotiate?” Sophie asked curiously, the ‘t’s’ slipping out of her mouth softly. Quinn shook his head.

“Dairy farmers don’t have any control over the prices, they get sold a flat rate for the year, and that’s it.”

“And I’m assuming they can’t go anywhere else?” The mastermind stepped in, though he was sure he already knew the answer. Once again, Quinn shook his head from side to side.

“No one else is gonna buy hundreds of fucking gallons of milk are they?” His reply was more aggressive this time, and he let the dust from the comment settle before moving on. “Alabama’s not exactly the dairy state. This processing plant, Rowling Processing, is the only one around. There _is_ no other plant in the area they can sell to, unless they wanna ship interstate.” He took another sip of beer and let it roll coolly down his throat.

“What do the locals say?” Eliot chimed in. He knew from experience in his own small town that the local community getting behind, or against, a new store or anything really, could bring them down entirely.

“They’re lapping it up.” Hardison stifled a laugh at the pun. Quinn, who had realised what he had said the second it slipped out of his mouth, shot the hacker a terrifying look. “Because the stores are getting it cheaper from the supplier, they’re selling it on for what, five cents cheaper to the customers. They’re happy ‘cause they get cheap milk, and spend the money they would’ve spent on cigarettes and booze.”

“So what do we want from us?” Nate asked poignantly, leaning forward.

“Look, I tried to fix the problem; tried contacting the company, going to the cops, to the town but I ain’t got shit. Now, I’ve seen the little Robin Hood stuff that you do; get my family their livelihood back.”

Nate leant further onto the table, folding his hands on top of one another. With a nifty smile, he glanced at each of the team, taking a short moment to take in their reactions. “Alright team,” he began. “Let’s go steal some milk.”


	2. You Took On A Steranko?

“So this here, is Mister Colin McLeod, managing director of Rowling Dairy Processing.” Holding his clicker as though it was his prized possession, Hardison marched in front of the projector, directing the teams, plus Quinn’s attention to the information on the screen. “As our lovely Mister Quinn here already informed us, Rowling Processing was sold by its long term owners last year, to, wait for it, Lillian Foods.”

“Lillian Foods?” Sophie confirmed. “As in the job with wheat and the Steranko?” Quinn looked at her in shock.

With a furrowed brow, Parker shook her head. “No, I think it was the job with the diamond in the potato.”

“For the last time,” Eliot growled, “there was no diamond in the potato. And-”

“And, it was the job with the magicians,” Hardison interrupted quickly, speaking in a fast pace so as to move things along. “Can we move on please?”

 “Hold up,” Quinn interjected, lifting his hand up, still staring at Sophie, with a look of awe on his face. He glanced up at Hardison, then swivelled in the bar stool to look back at rest of the team. “You took on a Steranko?”

“Yes, yes we did.” There was a sense of insane pride to Parker’s voice, as she offered Quinn a crazed smile. That was a moment she had been particularly proud of.

Eliot rolled his eyes and let out a huff. “Yeah, and not willingly, I might add.”

Impressed, Quinn leant back in his chair. “I underestimated you.”

“May I continue?” Hardison spoke up. He did not wait for a reply before he kept on with his briefing. “Now, we all know how Lillian Foods was shady as all hell but it looks like the problem has nothing to do with upper management and everything to do with this guy McLeod.” He pressed on the clicker, changing the slide and bringing up the image of their mark. Dark, perfectly combed hair framed his large button nose and oval face. He had a charming grin on his face, which sent out intense, extremely uncomfortable vibes. “Graduated with a business degree from Brown in the middle of his class, since then he’s been working in middle management here and there before landing a job at Lillian Foods, probably hoping it’d lead somewhere grand. Except, he’s been working in the same position, for the same company, for the last fifteen years. He’s never gotten any promotions, no recognition from management”- he accentuated the points with his hands, listing the things off dramatically with his fingers as he went along- “no bonuses, no interest, no nothing.”

“Right, so that’s why he’s pushing hard with this milk thing,” Eliot continued. “He thinks bringing in a bigger profit’s gonna get the attention of those up top,”

“And finally get himself into a bigger office,” Quinn finished for him. “So how do you fix the problem?”

All eyes turned to Nate, sitting comfortably on the middle stool. He leant back in the chair and stretched his arm out, calculating the necessary moves. “Sell him something he can’t refuse.”

“Like the Fiddle Job?” Parker asked with a glint in her eye, so proud that she knew that one and when it comes into play.

“Yeah, yeah,” Nate softly dismissed. He sat forward in his chair, drawing them all in. “But, not exactly.” He waited for a moment, thinking to himself as he stared at the mark on the screen.  “What we need to do, we have to convince Lillian Foods that the processing plant was a poor investment so they’ll pull out. We also need to make them aware of McLeod’s price fixing so they let him go.”

“Price fixing like this ain’t illegal,” Quinn rejected. “Sister and I already went down that route and got nothin’.”

“Then we need to have him push that barrier into illegal.”

“Alrighty.” Hardison slapped his hands together, lifting up the energy of the room, and directing all attention towards himself. “Got us all tickets to Alabama, flight leaves in two hours.” He picked up a pile of papers, tickets printed out from his computer, from the bench and handed one to each of them.

Looking down at the name on the ticket Quinn let out a shrill curse. “How on earth did you know about this alias?” The paper began to scrunch in his hands as he clenched his fist in annoyance.

The others began to move, lifting jackets off of chairs and handbags and purses off of the ground, as Hardison pointed at Quinn’s phone, resting face down on the bench. “Security in those things ain’t all it’s cracked up to be man.”            

“Let’s just go,” Quinn huffed, stuffing the paper into his pocket and standing up to leave. “I’ll see you all at the airport.”

“He seems frustrated,” Parker noted after the hitter left. She was leaning on her clenched palm, her elbow resting on the bench and eyes squinting at the door.

Eliot, already stuffing some supplies in a duffle bag, looked up towards her. He shook his head, forcing the hair away from his eyes. “Livelihood of his whole family’s at stake, Parker. He’s gotta right to be frustrated.”

 


	3. My Real Name's Jack Middle

The flight from Portland to Huntsville, Alabama was sullen and quiet, filled only with Parker’s excited babbles and Quinn’s incessant leg tapping. He was more than just frustrated, Eliot thought, he was nervous, and Eliot would be too. He didn’t know Quinn’s story, and he wouldn’t ask, but he was sure it was similar to his own situation and going back home wasn’t going to be pleasant for the man. Going home meant digging up old wounds and constant questions about anything and everything. It was an uncomfortable position for anyone to be in, facing your past.

The drive from the airport to Scottsboro had taken them an hour in the peak traffic, then another fifteen to drive to a large cattle farm on the outskirts of the small city. Quinn, turning off the main road and into a long, dirt driveway, glanced at the large, aging sign that sat beside the gate. ‘Middle Family Farm,’ it read, ‘est. 1954’.

“You good?” Eliot asked, seeing the uncomfortable uncertainty on the man’s, as his hands gripped the steering wheel and knuckles began to turn white.

“Goes without saying Eliot, that they don’t know what I do,” he replied. “They think I’ve finished up my tour of duty and have moved onto a desk job with a private security firm. They don’t need to know.”

Eliot nodded slowly. “I got it Quinn.”

“Jack,” he replied, as the car grinded to a halt.

“Sorry?”

“Mr. Quinn’s just an alias, one I’d prefer they don’t know about.” He pulled the keys out of the ignition and unclicked his seat belt. “Real name’s Jack Middle.”

“Nice to meet you Jack,” Eliot replied in a gruff tone. He stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he surveyed his surroundings. The double width driveway had led to a classic double story, country house. Several yards to the west, a smaller home sat beside a traditional red wooden barn. A stone path connected the three buildings together, pink and white camellias framing the whole route and wrapping around the entirety of the main family home, its white weather boards and porch wearing with age.

 The fly screen door on the porch swung open, revealing a small child in a blue sundress. Fine blonde bangs hung over her eyes and a well-loved rabbit hung from her hand. With a look of confusion, she stared out at the two gentleman callers before, much to Eliot’s surprise, she ran forward and bounded into Quinn’s arms.

“Uncle Jack!” she squealed gleefully. With ease, Quinn hoisted her up onto his hip and brushed the hair from her face.

“Hello sweet pea,” he cooed. “And you shut up Eliot,” he added, feeling Eliot’s amused stare from behind him.

“I didn’t say nothin’.”

“Uncle Jack!” A second child ran out from the porch. He bounded forward and hugged Quinn around the leg.

“Hey munchkins,” he greeted. With the young boy still hugging his leg tightly, he began to shuffle towards the house.

“What are you doing here? It’s not a holiday?” the boy asked, staring up affectionately at his uncle.

“Well Junior, I just thought I’d come give your mamma a hand that’s all. She about somewhere?”

“She’s in the kitchen baking with Nana,” the girl said. She bounced on Quinn’s hip as he walked up the stairs to the front door.

Quinn was honestly taken aback. “No, your mamma’s cooking? She can’t even make toast.” His niece giggled.

“You’re silly Uncle Jack!”

“Yes I am!” With his free foot, he kicked open the front door and walked into the house.

It was a typical farm house really; it had well-worn wooden floors, white wooden fittings and railings and furniture that had been passed down from generation to generation. It was, in every way, a home.

“Hey kids, who are you yelling at?” A woman, with dirty blonde hair tied back in a long braid, stepped out into the hallway, a fitted blue dress with tiny yellow flowers complimenting her figure. Seeing Quinn, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Well it’s about time, brother.” She greeted with a smile.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Thank you for coming Jack,” his sister thanked, kissing him on the cheek before moving into the kitchen to fix them all a pot of tea. Quinn settled himself onto a seat at a round, wooden dining table

“You knew he was coming?” His mother, sitting beside Quinn, asked in surprise. She was an elderly yet strong woman, with calloused hands, and hair and makeup that were fixed perfectly. Eliot watched curiously from the corner, allowing Quinn to do the majority of the explaining.  

“I called him,” his sister replied, nodding adamantly. “Who’s your friend?”

Quinn glanced his shoulder over at Eliot, leaning on the doorframe from the living room to the kitchen.  “Uh, this is, uh Eliot. This is my sister, Cath, my mother, Emily”

“Hi, Uh Eliot,” Cath smiled at him politely. Smiling, Eliot nodded back.

“Nice to meet you both,” replied Eliot.

“So how’s Bruce doin’?” Quinn asked.

“Really well, still going strong as ever,” came his sister’s enthusiastic reply.

Twisting slightly in her chair, Quinn’s mother turned to face Eliot. “Bruce is our breeding bull,” she explained politely. “We sell his, uh, genital matter to other farms for breeding; it’s actually how we make a lot of our money.”

“Mum,” Quinn complained.

“What? I can’t explain to your friend what we do here? And what’s this about Jack, anyway?”

“I can’t just visit?”

“You don’t visit Jack, not without calling ahead, so what’s going on?”

“Uh Eliot,” Quinn began, taking a liking to the nickname, “is a friend, friend?” he questioned to himself.

“Friend’s a little strong; colleague,” Eliot supplied.

“Right, colleague, who works with a consulting firm?” He glanced over at Eliot for confirmation on the back story.

“Sure, consulting firm,” Eliot shrugged.

“A consulting firm.” He shifted forward in his seat. Clasping his hands together, he placed his forearms on the table and leant in towards his mother.  “They look into these sorts of corruption and price fixing and try repair the damage.”

“Lawyers?” Mrs Middle asked in disappointment. It was clear it was not the sort of help she was hoping for.

“No, they’re a little more direct than that.” His mother’s mouth opened and she left it hanging, clearly wondering whether to ask another question. “And they’re gonna make sure that the plant pays you properly.”

“But-” she began to protest but Quinn cut her off.

“Look, Mum-” softly, he grabbed his mother’s hand in his- “I really just need you to trust me okay, and let my friends do their job.” He looked at her softly, waiting for her response.

“Mum?” Cathy prompted.  

Still unconvinced, his mother pondered for a moment. Sighing deeply, she plopped her other hand on top of his and rubbed it softly. “Okay Jacky, whatever you say.” She tapped his hand twice then pushed herself out of the chair and moved perkily towards the kitchen. “So, would you and your friend like something to eat?”

“No that’s okay Mum, Eliot and I have some work to do.” He stood up, wiping his hands up off on his pants. Eliot pushed himself away from the door frame and followed Quinn as he headed towards the front door.

“You’re not gonna wait for your father to get back?” His mother asked in hope.

“I wasn’t planning on it, no,” he said, shrugging as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

 “What about your brother?” She asked, and Quinn stopped dead in his tracks.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, do you?”

There was a disappointed look on his mother’s face. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” He walked to the front door and pulled it open, gesturing Eliot out first. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied softly, seeing them both out the door.

XXXXXXXXX

“So how often do you see them?” Eliot asked, as they drove away from the Middle Farm. Quinn’s nieces and nephews clearly knew him well, and it didn’t seem like he was estranged from any of his family, (except for maybe his father and brother, but that could happen in any family) and, if Eliot was being honest with himself, he was somewhat jealous; family was something Eliot had never been able to get a handle on.

“Make sure I’m here for all the kid’s birthdays, holidays, Christmas and all of that,” Quinn replied, without looking back at Eliot.

“So how come you left?” He asked, without expecting any form of answer.

“You know, you ask a lot of questions for a guy who busts heads for a living,” came Quinn’s snide reply.  “Let’s just get to the farmland and fix this thing up.”

Eliot turned back to look out the window and rode the rest of the ride back in silence.


	4. The Ford Pinto Scandal Was A Real Inspiration

 “Mr McLeod!” Sophie yelled out, heels clacking as she as she chased their mark into the lobby of Lillian Food headquarters in Birmingham. With the others working on setting up the rest of the con back in Scottsboro, Sophie and Nate had driven up to Birmingham to begin their play on their mark.

 “Mr McLeod,” she yelled out once more as he either failed to recognise his name being called, or chose not to acknowledge it. He spun around this time, his brow raising in curiosity. “Ah, Mr McLeod, I’m so glad I caught you.” She walked up to him quickly and held out her hand for him to shake. “My name is Alyssa Brown and I have a business proposition for you.” Her New York accent came across with power and force. “It’s really quite exciting you see, a business partner and I-”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” McLeod interrupted, a look of frustrated confusion on his face. Sophie looked taken aback.

“Alyssa Brown, I work with a consulting firm up in New York, perhaps you’ve heard of us? Grande Consulting?” She looked at him hopefully.

McLeod shook his head and pivoted quickly on his feet. In a rushed pace, he began to walk once more through the lobby. Matching his pace, Sophie followed with enthusiasm.

“My colleague, Robert Aldrin, he went to College with you at Brown and you left quite an impression.” Sophie noticed a slight twinkle in his eye; it was the first thing she’d said that had caught her attention. “He’d like to talk with you about some business opportunities, that is, if you’re not too busy here at,” she glanced around for some signage, “Lillian Foods.” She paused now, waiting for her mark’s inevitable cave in.

“What was the name again?” He asked curiously, pausing once more.

“Robert Aldrin,” she replied with a smile. She took a beat then pulled out a business card from the jacket of her suit. He took it from her and slowly scoured the small piece of paper.

“You should give him a call,” Sophie prompted, walking backwards slowly. “I think it’d be very beneficial to you.”

“We’ll see,” McLeod replied. He turned back away and, the second he was out of earshot, Sophie dropped her character. “He’s on the hook guys. Nate, I’d expect a call in hmm, 40 minutes tops.”

XXXXXXXXXX

_“How the hell is Nate going pass as one of his classmates?” Quinn cursed the day before as the team ran through the play back in Portland._

_“That part of the con is actually something we’ve pulled before,” Hardison replied proudly._

_“Is it? I don’t remember that one.” Eliot chimed in in a sarcastic tone. “Oh, that’s right, I was too busy getting beat up by freaking Iranians.”_

_“Are you really still bitter about that?” Sophie asked._

_“Damn straight I am-”_

_“Can someone please answer my damn question?” Quinn pushed. Hardison, diplomatic as ever, stepped in to explain._

_“I’ve actually taken the identity of one of McLeod’s ex-classmates; guys career fits perfectly into what we need. The person’s real, so any internet search is going to bring up a real person.” He typed a few things onto his laptop, and gestured for Quinn to take a look. “All I’ve done is switched the photos online so for all intents and purposes, he is Nate.”_

_“What if he tries to call?”_

_“Oh Quinn,” Hardison laughed, “my sweet summer child. I’ve hacked into his phone, so all of his calls are routed through us. He tries to call anyone real to do with Nate’s alias, we can intercept it and feed him the info we want.”_

_Quinn, who thirty seconds ago had looked like he wanted to punch Hardison in the face, crossed his arms and nodded. “Okay,” he said simply. “Thankyou.”_

XXXXXXXXXXXX

“Mr McLeod,” Sophie smiled. She held her hand out to their mark, and shook his hand softly. He looked at her up and down; her perfectly tailored suit fit her in all the right places and was just revealing enough to keep McLeod wrapped around her little finger.

“Please, call me Colin,” he grinned back. “Robert’s right through here.” She gestured him through an office door that they had hijacked the night before. They stepped into the room. Nate, who was sitting lazily at the desk, dressed in a smart looking suit, jumped up and forward to shake their mark’s hand.

“Colin, Colin, it’s so great to see you again. How are you?” Nate slid back into his chair, and motioned for McLeod to slide into the seat in front of him. In a sultry movement Sophie settled herself on top of the desk, crossing one leg over the other.

“I’m well, but, uh, you’ll have to refresh my memory. Brown was big place and I don’t quite remember you.

“Really, you don’t remember me at all?” Letting out a small laugh, Nate looked genuinely offended. He paused ‘not thinking’ it was a legitimate question. After a moment of silence, Nate continued, spitting out the back story that Hardison had so carefully researched and backstopped. “We took _several_ classes together, Eckhart’s Entrepreneurship and Innovation, Management 301? You did a presentation on uh, Management in Emergency Situations, right?”

McLeod looked surprised, and convinced. “And you, uh? You did a presentation on, uh?”

“The Ford Pinto scandal,” Nate confirmed. “Which, if I’m being honest, is a real inspiration.”

Satisfied, McLeod smiled. “It’s good to see you again Robert. You’ve made quite a name for yourself,” he admired.

Nate shook it off nonchalantly and shrugged his shoulders. “It was easy work really. But how about you? How’s Lillian Foods treating you?”

“Good, uh, it’s uh good.” It was a blatant lie that would have shown even if the crew didn’t know he’d been bored and stuck in the job for years.

“Well that’s good to hear, everyone at Brown always did have high hopes for you,” Nate replied, throwing a chuckle onto the end.

“Tell him about your proposition,” Sophie prompted excitedly.

“Ah yes, your proposition, this I’d be most excited to hear.” McLeod leant back in his chair and waited

“Now, I’ve been paying attention to you and your milk price drop, that’s now that’s some good work.”

“Thank you,” McLeod said smugly.

“But I think you can do more,” Nate continued. Their mark looked intrigued. “Have you ever heard of mine salting?”

“I have, yes.” McLeod replied. “Miners used to sprinkle their mines with gold or whatever was valuable at the time so they could sell it at a premium.”

“And you’re aware of how valuable land is at the moment?”

“In these parts? Farmable land sells at a premium but nobody wants to sell, because farming’s the only way anyone can make a living around here.”

“Right, so farmable land is worth how much to a company like Lillian Foods?”

“Millions upon millions.”

_XXXXXXXXX_

_“Land?” Quinn had asked in disbelief. “You’re gonna take this guy down with a land deal?”_

_“It’s clean, simple and easy to execute,” Nate defended. “You can never go wrong with a land deal.”_

_“But a land deal?”_

_“Look,” Hardison took over, “These parts of the country only way to make an honest living is through farming, which you already know, but since the GFC it’s getting harder and harder to do so. Big companies like Lillian Foods are lapping up the opportunity to control the supply chain so they can cut costs. This is a good way in.”_

_“Land deal it is!”_

_XXXXXXXXXX_

“Millions upon millions,” McLeod repeated. “And I see where you’re going with this, but these farmers, locals, they’ll never sell. And besides,” he continued, with more aggression in his tone. “Why are you coming to me about this? Why not take this deal to someone at state office. Darren Bricks perhaps?” The question was a test and they both cottoned on immediately.

“I thought, I thought Darren left late last year to go work for some computer hotshot?” Sophie asked, glancing at Nate.

“Yeah, uh, that young, Princeton graduate, took over,” Nate agreed, nodding along with the grifter.

“You’re right, my mistake,” McLeod said dryly. Nate resettled himself in the seat before addressing the issue at hand. The mark was almost, _almost,_ on the hook, he just needed a little push.

“Look, Colin,” Nate began. “I came to you because _I know_ you work hard. These young lackeys, coming straight from college have got no clue but you, well, _you_ can appreciate a good deal when you see one.” The last statement seemed to have caught McLeod’s attention and he nodded slowly in agreement.

“So what does mine salting have to do with all of this?” he asked; he was on the hook.

“Oh this, you’re going to love this,” Sophie commented nonchalantly, lightly placing her hand on McLeod’s shoulder.

“Ah, it’s actually reverse salting, peppering, if you will. Instead of convincing a mark that their land is worth millions, you decrease the value of their land and their livelihood so they have no choice but to sell to you, at the price you want.”

Looking intrigued, McLeod leant forward. “So why do you need me? And what do you get out it?”

“I don’t have the infrastructure to make the sales and 10% commission,” Nate answered without skipping a beat.

“I’ll have to see your operation.”

“Of course, you free tomorrow?”

“Eight am?”

“Perfect. We’ll message you the address and see you in the morning.”


	5. Welcome To Leverage

 “So stage one is done,” Nate declared. After their meeting with the mark, they’d driven the two hour drive from Birmingham to Scottsboro to meet up with the rest of the team at the hotel. Eliot, Parker, Hardison and Quinn had spent the day setting up for stage two; which involved commandeering an abandoned field (whose clay soil and salinated water table meant it would never be habitable for animals or crops), releasing hundreds of tiny little insects that would easily pass as those that damage any form of crop, burning what little greenery there was with a flame thrower (that Parker had far too much fun with), and tainting the water with fake algae and similar chemicals, to make the land look as unappealing as possible.

Quinn had worked mostly in silence (careful to avoid any questions about his family or home life), while Parker and Hardison babbled incessantly away, with Eliot chiming in occasionally. It had taken the majority of the day, with the foursome arriving back at the hotel at almost the same time as the other two. They’d each of them showered, before regrouping in the largest suit to discuss the rest of the con.

“Stage two is we take McLeod to the plot of land to see the ‘damage’ we’ve created,” Nate, pacing around the room, emphasised the point with air quotes. “Before reeling in the sale from Eliot at a fraction of what the land is actually worth. Stage three McLeod gets in on the action and we turn him into Lillian Foods management. He’ll be let go, and when the new plant manager comes in we’ll make sure he sets fair prices for all the families, including yours.” He looked at Quinn, who nodded solemnly in thanks. “Everything all set at the plot?”

Hardison nodded. “We are good to go, man.”

“Alrighty then,” he clapped his hands together. “I will see you all bright and early tomorrow to finish this thing off then.”

The team began to dissipate, with Eliot and Quinn heading towards the same elevator. “Going to see the family?” Eliot asked, clicking the button for the ground floor. There was a jolt as the lift began to move.

“I’m going to the gym.” Quinn’s reply came without a second thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the quizzical, almost judging, look on Eliot’s face. “What? I don’t see you going to visit your family every time you’re free.”

Eliot shrugged off the personal attack. “Yeah, but my family and I’ve never seen eye to eye. Yours, well, they actually looked excited to see you.”

“Not all of ‘em.” The reply had slipped reluctantly out of his mouth.

“Look, Quinn, I get it, family’s a fucking nightmare, but be careful you don’t push ‘em away. Don’t make that mistake.”

There was a ding as the elevator door opened to the lobby. Eliot gave Quinn a friendly nod before exiting while Quinn, brooding in his thoughts lingered. He took a beat, then left the lift slowly to go track down the gym.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sun was shining in the morning. Streaming beautifully through the clouds and bouncing off the steam that rose up from the night’s dew as it dissipated away. With coffee in hand to keep away the bite of the cold air, Sophie and Nate waited patiently for the mark to arrive.

“ _I just want to let you know guys,”_ Quinn said from the van, sitting a few blocks away from the main action. “ _That I really appreciate this.”_

“Happy to help, Quinn,” Sophie smiled.

A few hundred yards away, a car turned a corner. Instantly, Nate and Sophie switched into character; each adjusting their posture and changing their stance so it perfectly matched their personas from the day before.

The car stopped directly in front of them, and Nate gave a wave to their mark through the dark tinted windows.

“Morning, Colin,” Sophie greeted with a smile but there was something off about his demeanour; he was too buttoned up, too dismissive in his looks and glances for Sophie’s liking.

“Morning,” he replied in a solemn tone. Pushing the car door open, McLeod slid out onto the ground. The gravel crunched underneath his feet.

“Shall we, uh, get started?” Nate suggested. He too could tell that something was off with McLeod and hoped that getting things moving would fix, or reveal, whatever problem they were facing.

McLeod glanced down at the ground and clasped his hands in front of him. “I don’t think so.”

Caught off guard, Nate stammered. “I’m sorry?”

“ _Fuck,”_ Quinn cursed over the coms. In a matter of moments, he’d gone from satisfied and happy to crushed and angry.

“This thing,” he gestured around him to the dilapidated lot. “I think it’s spectacular, what you’re doing here. And for any other company I would take it up in a heartbeat. But Lillian Foods,” McLeod laughed uncomfortably, and quickly glanced down. “There was a scandal a few years back and after that, Lillian Foods got very strict; they made sure everything anyone in the company did was legal. Anything not causes anyone involved to get fired. Now I’ve spent too long working for this company to get fired.”

“But uh, what about your little milk scandal?” Nate laughed uncomfortably.

“Not illegal, so Lillian Foods doesn’t have a problem with it. But this? I just can’t risk it.”

“If you’re worried about getting caught Mr McLeod-” Sophie began, trying somehow to turn things around. But McLeod dismissed her quickly as he stepped backwards.

“Look Alyssa, Robert, I appreciate your offer, but it’s just something I cannot do,” he explained then retreated into his car. He sped off almost as quickly as he arrived, leaving Nate and Sophie, baffled and alone in the lot.

“’ _Can’t go wrong with a land deal’ my ass!”_

XXXXXXX

“What the hell happened?” Quinn shouted from outside the van, throwing his arm about angrily. He paced quickly as he waited for a reply. After the bombshell that had just been dropped on them, they’d regrouped at the van to try and figure out what to do.

“I, I don’t know,” Hardison admitted.

Nate, leaning up against the van door, stepped forward. “We overestimated. We overestimated his zeal, his tactics, his goals, the play, and he walked away.”

Disagreeing, Sophie shook her head. “No, there was something more. He’s so intent on making it in Lillian Foods, he shouldn’t care about breaking the law.”

“But he does,” Hardison reminded her.

“But he shouldn’t.”

“Well, is it possible we missed something in his background?” Eliot suggested. “It’s happened before.”

Hardison ignored the clear dig and pulled out his laptop from inside of the van. He typed away confidently, completely sure that his research and prep work was thorough and accurate. “Look, we didn’t miss anything. Guy may be bastard, but he’s boring and plain as all hell, and _oh hell!”_

“What?” Quinn growled.

“You missed something didn’t ya?” Eliot replied at the same time.

“Possibly, maybe something tiny, just a little thing, a little thing,” Hardison continued, his pitch raising slightly. Parker, sitting beside him, lent over his shoulder to peer at the screen.

“Holy, seriously?” she exclaimed.

Now stopping his pacing, Quinn stood in a wide stance with his arms crossed over his chest. “What?”

“The guy killed someone,” Hardison informed them all. Looks of surprise were exchanged between the team.

“Who?” Sophie asked, the slightest hint of fear in her voice. She waited patiently as the hacker scanned the screen for information. After a moment of searching his eyebrows raised.

“Looks like he tried to run the same milk pricing scam in Georgia. The victim, Daniel Holden, was a local dairy farmer who tried to open up his own processing plant so he wouldn’t have to go through McLeod” He scanned the file some more. “He was stabbed in his barn. McLeod was a suspect but there was never enough evidence to convict so he was let off. After it was all over, he got a job at Lillian Foods and nothing much happened after that.”

“You’re telling me, there’s a fucking murderer walking around my town, doing business-” he cut himself off “-screwing over my family? My sister does fucking business with this guy!”

With a pensive look, Nate scratched his face. “We’ll fix it,” Nate said, almost as an aside. Then, furrowing his brow as he concentrated, he turned to the rest of the team “So we need a new plan. One that involves prison,” he looked directly at Quinn, “and new management for good measure,” he said to the others.

“So what’s the plan?” Quinn asked eagerly.

“Uh, what we need-”

“Is a cow.” The unexpected interruption came from Parker, sitting on the floor of the van with her legs hanging out the door. Quinn and the others gave her a puzzled look. “You said Lillian Foods wanted to control the whole supply chain right? So have him steal a cow!”

“And that helps us how, Parker?” Eliot said, slight aggression in his tone.

“No, no, no, that’s perfect!” Nate exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Excited at the prospect of the new con, he began to move about excitedly. “Quinn we’re going to need your family farm, and your family, and a bull.”

Quinn shook his head instantly. “You better fucking be kidding me?”

The mastermind ignored Quinn’s protest and moved around to the cab of the van. “Alright everyone, let’s go steal us a dairy farm.”

“He’s not kidding?” Quinn muttered to Eliot.

“Welcome to Leverage,” Eliot mumbled back, giving him a friendly pat on the back as they loaded into the back of the van to, hopefully, be briefed on Nate’s still forming plan.


	6. We've Sold Stranger Things

“Uh, bull semen?” Hardison asked. The topic was unusual and most certainly did come under his usual branch of knowledge.

They’d rendezvoused back at their hotel after the things had fallen ever so slightly apart earlier and Nate had given them a rundown of his plan. By far, it wasn’t the craziest con he’d come up with, but it was certainly one of the strangest.

“Yes, dairy cows need to need produce a calf once a year for them to keep producing milk,” Nate began explaining but Quinn took over quickly; this was his domain. That and punching people in the face.

“Artificial insemination is a much easier way for farmers to do that; yields better results and’s about five times less risky. Farmers can get anywhere between 10 and 100 bucks for a straw of bull semen. And,” Quinn continued, “if you’re a farmer, with a bull with good pedigree, whose offspring produce more milk, and doesn’t get off on a regular basis”-

“Woah, woah, woah,” Hardison interrupted, holding his hands up in protest. “Please don’t be so crass about the bull and it’s… seed.” He hands flailed about uncomfortably.

“Who doesn’t _ejaculate_ very often,” Quinn corrected, enunciating clearly in his frustration, “now you can get upwards of 500 bucks for point two five ccs of semen. It’s a lucrative fucking market man.”

Politely, Sophie placed her hands on her lap and spoke out. “So our plan b is to take down our murderous entrepreneur using bull,” she quieted her voice, as though she was too proper to speak it loudly, “semen?”

“That is correct,” Nate confirmed. “And if you think about it, it’s not that much different from our original con; we’re selling McLeod something that’ll make him stand out to Lillian Food’s management and we’re making it backfire.”

“Bull semen?” Sophie asked again.

Parker, sitting on the floor in front of Hardison, shrugged. “We’ve sold stranger things.”

“Have we?” Eliot asked. The others agreed with the question; none of them could ever remember having to use something quite as obscure as bull semen in any of their cons.

“Now, this is all well and good, but your plan hinges on me getting my father to play along.” Quinn’s voice lowered a fraction, nervousness seeping into his words and onto his face.

“You’re pretty close with your family aren’t you?” Quinn let out a sigh at Sophie’s innocent and curious question.

“Dad and I haven’t spoken in years,” he admitted solemnly. “I always call ahead and he makes himself scarce while I’m around. It’s a good system. And he won’t go for it.”

“You’re a smart man,” Nate replied smugly, snatching his mug of mostly coffee off the table and nursing it in his hand. “Convince him.”

XXXXXXXXXX

Quinn stepped uncomfortably out of the car onto his family farm. Parker, who had come along for good measure and ‘moral support because that’s what people do’, followed and elegantly leapt out onto the grass. Unlike the first visit, they’d driven past the main house and straight towards the cattle ranch in the middle of the property, where Quinn was sure his father would be working. Even after years of not seeing him, he had no doubt that his habits wouldn’t have changed.

Seeing his father nearby, Quinn slammed the car door shut loudly. The sound caught the attention of the older man, with grey hair, leathered skin the typical farmer’s clothing of tartan shirt, jeans, boots and a Stetson.

“Well, the prodigal son returns,” his father said. There was bitterness in his tone as he wiped his hands off on a nearby rag.

“Dad,” Quinn greeted in response.

“Your sister said you and your buddies here were going to try and fix the problem we have with the plant.”

“That’s right.”

“So what are you doing here?” Still, there was latent anger seething through his father’s words.

Quinn took a long, laboured breath and placed his hands on his hips. “Need your help,” Quinn muttered reluctantly, staring down at the ground.

“My help?”

“We’re trying to take down McLeod, the new manager of the processing plant-”

“I know who he is,” he interrupted harshly.

“And we need to borrow some cattle, con him into believing that we’re selling, maybe get you to play along-”

“This what you doing with your life huh? Good to see Aiden threw his life away for nothing.” The simple comment was enough to make Quinn grow rigid and clench his fists. Nostrils flaring, he took a few, long breaths through his nose before replying.

“Where’s Bruce?”

"Bruce?” his father yelled angrily, pointing out in the general direction of the farm with his entire arm. “You want me to sell Bruce? Well, I got news for you Jack, I am _not_ selling that bull, especially to that bastard McLeod. Besides, if this farm goes bust, that bull is all we have.”

“We’re just fake selling him,” Parker added, trying dampen the increasingly aggressive family conversation.

“Dad, I’m not asking you to sell him, I just need McLeod to think he’s bought him from you. That’s it.”

“That man, ain’t getting anywhere near anything of mine.”

“Dad, I’m trying to fix this.”

“I didn’t ask you to fix this, nobody did. Because you know what Jack, you’ve never been able to fix any of your problems.”

Fuming, Quinn gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. “Fine Dad!” he yelled, finally conceding. “Fine. Enjoy the last few months you have with the farm.” With a powerful turn, Quinn marched back towards the car. Parker, watching both Quinn and his father, lingered slightly before following him.

“Told you he wouldn’t go for it,” Quinn muttered into the coms.

 _“It’s fine,”_ Nate assured. _“It’s fine, it’ll work without it_.”

“How the hell is this going to work without him?”

“We’ll use you instead. You’re a Middle; you can sell the bit. We’ll get your sister to clear him out so he doesn’t get in the way. Plus, him not being involved’ll work better for the reveal. How are your grifting skills?”

Seething, Quinn took a moment to cool off before he replied. “Not perfect, but I can sell a man a cow.”


	7. Eliot's Rubbing Off On You

 

As dusk came, the dry Alabama heat continued to blanket the Middle Farm. Quinn and Parker waited by the barn of his family farm, both squinting the sun away. After Quinn’s slight alteration with his father, his sister had been called upon to take their father temporarily out of the picture. The team had put into place their back up plan and left Quinn and Parker to meet McLeod at the Middle Farm.

They were leaning on the side of a truck, sun blaring down on them, waiting in tedious silence for their mark to show.

 “Who’s Aiden?” Parker asked, seemingly out of the blue. The question had actually been weighing on her mind since earlier that afternoon. She’d never imagined Quinn more than ‘Quinn the guy that beat up Eliot that one time and also helped us out on that other con’. It was bizarre for her seeing him having a normal side to him; a normal life. It was something, she realised, she hadn’t really considered for any of her team, until now, and she was curious.

 Quinn gave her a sideward glance and ignored the question “Before, with your dad, he mentioned someone called Aiden and you went all stiff,” she pushed.

“Aiden’s my brother,” he reluctantly replied, shifting his weight.

“Where is he?” There was innocence to her questions and Quinn couldn’t help but oblige her.

“He is in prison.”

“And why are you letting him down?”

“You know, Eliot’s rubbing off on you.” Seeing dust rising up from across the paddock, he pushed himself off the truck and hitched up his pants. “He asks too many questions too.”

 “You’re like Eliot too you know,” came her reply as Parker, dressed in jeans, cowboy boots and hats, followed suit and slid her hands into her pockets. “You don’t answer many questions.”

Quinn shook his head as the car pulled up beside them. Slowly, in a simple suit and shiny shoes, their mark stepped out of the car, fruitlessly careful to avoid any patches large patches of dirt on the ground.

“Thanks for coming,” Quinn muttered. He did his best to hide his anger at the man.

“I do try and keep up a relationship with all of my clients.” McLeod spoke down his nose at them both. “Though,” he added, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Colin McLeod.” He held out a slimy hand for Quinn to shake.

“Jack Middle,” Quinn replied, getting the shake over and done with as quickly as possible. “My, uh, wife Bonnie,” he gestured over to Parker.

“Pleasure to meet with you both. Now, what can I help you with?”

“Now,” Quinn hitched up his pants again. “I’m sure you’re aware of the pressure your new prices are putting on my family farm here?”

McLeod laughed uncomfortably. “I’ve told you and your family before, the prices aren’t changing-”

“Yeah, I know,” Quinn snapped. Placing his hands on his hips, he took a long breath in through his nose. “I know. But now, we’re losing a shit load of money and we need to make some of it back.”

Parker took over the talking, relieving some tension from the situation. “Lillian Foods are moving into production,” Parker replied. “And we want you to buy our bull.”

“I’m sorry?” McLeod asked in surprise.

“We can’t,” staying perfectly in character, Parker stammered a little, “we can’t afford to keep the rest of the farm running.”

“We want to sell him,” Quinn said bluntly.

“You want to sell your best breeding bull?” McLeod asked in disbelief and Quinn nodded slowly. “And you came to me?”

“We’re hardly staying afloat as it is Mr McLeod and frankly, we need money. No one else in town can afford to purchase him I know you and Lillian Foods’ll give us the best price.” McLeod looked uninterested. Parker took the cue and stuck her head through the open truck window. Her arms reaching to their fullest, she strained to pull the folder out. “I also know that Lillian Foods has been looking at moving into production for quite a while now.” With Parker handing McLeod the folder, he paused and let Hardison’s painstaking effort do its job.

McLeod perused over it, shaking his weight back and forth as he did. “This is-”

“Bruce’s history,” Quinn quickly interrupted. “That’s the whole bulls, uh, medical history, lineage, sale prices.”

“600 a unit?” A decent amount of poorly hidden awe seeped into his words.

“Yup!” Parker replied. McLeod scanned the document once more then shut it in a purposeful movement.

 “Why didn’t your father approach me about this?”

“He doesn’t know,” Quinn admitted and it wasn’t entirely untrue. “He’s a proud man, he wouldn’t sell even if it meant going under.”  

McLeod flicked open the file and began to peruse it one more time.

 _“He’s close,”_ Nate coached from the other side of the coms. “ _Go in for the close now Quinn; give him a time frame.”_

“Look, Mr McLeod I can see you’re interested, but I really need an answer today, okay? Otherwise we have to start shutting things down ‘cause we ain’t gonna be able to cover our running costs.”

“ _Ooh, that’s good,”_ Sophie admired, “ _Middle Farm’s his biggest supplier, if they go there’s no way he’s going to bring in enough to get the attention of management.”_

“This is all on the up and up?” He asked cautiously.

“Of course,” Parker said, as though it would be nothing else. “Bruce is in my name, I have the right to sell him.”

“Got the papers right here?” Quinn nodded towards the truck and then looked hopefully towards McLeod. He waited patiently, watching as McLeod ticked things over in his mind. Finally though, a slight smile creaked onto his face.

“All right then,” he confirmed. “Let’s do it.”

XXXXXXXXX

“Aw shit,” Quinn cursed, spying his father’s truck driving in from the distance. It was mostly dark now, with the last half an hour or so spent on signing the sale papers and loading Bruce the bull into a truck. They’d let their mark drive off, then loaded themselves silently into the truck to leave.

They were riding along the driveway when his father’s car came up over the ridge. Each car pulled over slightly so there was room on the narrow road for both of them. They grinded to a halt beside each other and, engine still running, they wound down the windows.

Sitting in his car, red faced and crossed brow, it wasn’t difficult to notice that Quinn’s father was furious. “Was that McLeod leaving my property with one of _my bulls_ in the trailer?” he shouted angrily.

“I told you dad, I just need you to trust me on-”

“Goddammit Jack!” He yelled back as he switched his car into gear.

“What are you doin’?”

“Going to call the goddam cops and tell ‘em there’s been a theft!” He sped off quickly, tearing up the gravel road and sending clouds of dirt up into the sky.

“Did you catch that Nate?” Parker asked into the coms.

“ _I did,”_ came Nate’s simple reply.

“So we can wrap this thing up now?” Quinn grumbled, jerkily forcing the car into drive before taking off.

“ _They should wrap themselves up but yes.”_

“Good.”


	8. I'll See You 'Round

For the rest of the evening, and even into the night, Nate and Hardison glued themselves to all forms of media to make sure the rest of their plan unfolded as they planned; radio, police scanners, news, blogs, TV and a whole load of other outlets that no one beside Hardison would ever consider looking at, were all examined with scrutiny.

Then, in the morning, they got the news they had all been waiting for; McLeod had been arrested by the local sheriff. A few well-placed calls later, and they’d confirmed that he would be going to jail for a long time.

The smile that had wrapped itself onto Quinn’s face after hearing the news, had been one of relief, joy and satisfaction; the kind of satisfaction one only gets from taking down an asshole like McLeod.

Now, the sun already high and air already uncomfortably warm, the team had picked up the Middle’s beloved Bruce and driven him back to the farm.

The two cars and large trailer rattling along the driveway caught the attention of Jared Middle, walking up from the barn, and he paused in his tracks, squinting through the sun to try and catch a better glimpse of the commotion. Hearing the noise too, Quinn’s sister, dressed in work shorts and tartan shirt this time, and mother, walked out from the house and down towards her father.

Jared was the only one wearing a frown as the Leverage team (plus Quinn) unloaded themselves from the cars. “There’s your bull back,” Quinn said as he moved to unhitch the trailer carrying his father’s prized animal. “Just like I said,” he added bitterly, only somewhat under his breath.

“Good job Jack, good job, you succeeded in getting McLeod arrested!” his father yelled back angrily. “He’s gonna be in prison for what, a solid two days, before getting?”

“Dad,” Cath said softly, trying to intervene.

“Jared,” Mrs Middle scalded at the same time. Unsure of what to do, the Leverage crew stood in silence.

“And you know what he’s gonna do then, he’s gonna take it out on us!”

“Dad would you just listen to Jack for one goddam second,” his sister yelled out. Her voice pierced through the heat and tension as his father stared blankly back at her.

“McLeod’s going to prison for fifteen years,” Quinn explained. Two frustrated to continue, his threw his hand quickly towards Nate, gesturing him to take over.

“Quinn and uh, Parker here,” Nate began as Parker gave a simple wave at her name being called. “Aren’t rightful owners of the bull, so technically, technically, what happened yesterday was ‘theft of a bovine’ which carries a maximum penalty of 15 years, the same as theft of a fire arm-”

“And less than stealing a plane,” Hardison interrupted. Everyone gave him a confused glance. “Just FYI,” he added, then let Nate continue.

“The chief and the prosecutor both have family in the dairy industry and they’re not huge fans of this guy so they’re going to make sure the charges stick. McLeod will not be back.”

Slightly impressed with it all, Jared Middle snorted softly. “And uh, what about Lillian Foods? Are they gonna send someone else in here to do the exact same thing?”

“Unlikely,” Sophie said.

“Due to a, uh, previous bad experience,” Hardison began, “Lillian Foods tries to distance themselves from any scandals so they’ll be selling the plant any day now.”

“Which leaves another goddam manipulative suit to come in and do the exact same thing!” Jared complained.

Nate cocked his head. “Hmm, not exactly.”

“Quinn-” Eliot began before he quickly corrected himself. “Jack already put in an offer for the place.”

“With what money?” His father said, clearly accusing him of something less than legal. Although it wasn’t a stretch, the team decided to keep the details vague, including the fact that the money McLeod had used to buy Bruce had been used to purchase the processing plant.

“Savings Dad,” Quinn explained simply.

“Oh Jack!” Mrs Middle exclaimed, running forward with tears in her eyes to give her son a hug. Quinn embraced her softly. “Thankyou.”

“No worries, Ma,” he said back. Stepping away from his mother, Quinn gave a quick hug to his sister, all while carefully avoiding the gaze of his father.

“Thank you,” Mrs Middle said again, this time to the Leverage crew. They nodded back kindly before being quickly blindsided by the woman. “Now, you’ll all come inside and join us for dinner.”

“That’s very kind,” Sophie said softly. “But-”

“No, no, no,” she said quickly. “I insist, you must all come inside.” Seeing them hesitate, she gestured them all inside, while Quinn continued with his staring contest with his father. They locked eyes for a moment more before, cursing under his breath, Jared stormed off furiously towards the barn. Quinn, and his mother in almost the same way, sighed. They watched him wander off before Mrs Middle, smoothing out her floral apron, collected herself. “Come, come.”

Parker was the first to bound forward, following Mrs Middle and Cath directly inside where she made herself completely comfortable in the Middle’s home. The other’s followed slowly, intruding only politely into the home. Quinn came in last, brooding in his emotions.

XXXXXXXXXXX

“Your mother makes a good meal,” Eliot said, walking outside onto the porch. The night had cooled slightly and a warm breeze was blowing as they lent against the banister. Tapping him on the arm, Eliot handed Quinn a cold beer.

“Yeah, she can cook with the best of ‘em,” Quinn muttered quietly. He stared down at his beer and began tearing off the label. It was a nervous habit he had tried years to overcome but somehow never quite could.

“And you two seem to get along well,” Eliot added. He took a sideward glance at Quinn’s fiddling hands before staring back out into the horizon. “So why’d you run off?”

“What?” Quinn turned to him with an angry look in his eye.

 “I don’t get you. I left my family ‘cause it was a shit house. You seem like you have something good here, why leave?” He kept his voice calm and even; kept any aggression out of his voice.

“’Cause I owed it to somebody to do somethin’ with my life. Started out okay but you know the drill, things change, before you’ve even noticed.”

Eliot took a slow sip of his beer, letting Quinn take his time.

“When I was sixteen I was driving me and my brother home from a party, we were both drunk, it was late and, as luck would have it I would drive into the only other freaking car driving around the backstreets and 2 am in the morning. I was thrown clear of the car was in a coma for three weeks and when I wake up I find out that of the other car died on impact.”

“What about your brother?”

“Now, that there’s the kicker of the story,” he said, swallowing some beer. “By some miracle, he escaped the crash unscathed and when the cops arrived, he told them it was him driving. By the time I woke up, there was already a trial date set and Aiden, well, he’s stubborn and likes to stick his guns. Anyway, the girl who died, Lucy Jones, her father was the district attorney and because he has friends Aiden got put away for twenty years. Only person who ever knew the truth about it all was my father, and that didn’t sit well with him.  So I left, soon as I could, I left to try and do somethin’ good with my life and, well, look how that turned out.”

They stood in silence for a moment, staring out into the paddock as they sipped their beers and let the alcohol wash over them.

“You’ve got a good thing going on, Eliot,” Quinn finally spoke up again. “You’re doing good things with people who care about you. My advice to you is don’t screw it up.”

Eliot shifted his weight. He knew it was true; he had been fortunate enough to some form of redemption, some chance to make up for the things he’d done and even more fortunate still that he’d managed to gain some sort of family, however dysfunctional and unusual they may be. “You want my advice, Quinn?” Eliot asked. “Fix things with your dad; it’s something I’ve tried and failed to do a hundred times over, but trust me Quinn, you gotta do it.”

“Think I haven’t tried, man doesn’t exactly make it easy, I mean, he makes himself scarce whenever I’m around-”

He was cut off by the sliding door opening behind them. Instinctively, the two men both flicked their heads behind them to see who was intruding on their conversation. Seeing Quinn’s father standing in the doorway, Eliot pushed himself away from the bannister and made his way inside.

“Dad,” Quinn greeted as he turned himself back around.

“Listen, Jack,” he said, clearing his throat. “I just wanted to say thank you, for fixing this whole thing. Your mother _and I_ ,” he added a little quieter, “we appreciate it. A lot.”

Quinn was taken aback by the thanks and dropped his jaw slightly in response. “No problem, Dad,” he replied simply. “I’m always here to help.”

XXXXXXXXX

After Quinn’s mother’s delicious meal and numerous stories about Quinn’s childhood, the team had said their thanks, and prepared to load themselves into the car to head straight for the airport.

Quinn had decided to stay for a few days, to make sure things ran smoothly and to help set up the plant.  He’d said thankyou once more to the team before being approached by Eliot. “You know Quinn, you ever want a solid job we can always use an extra hand,” Eliot offered, recalling their earlier conversation. He’d come to the conclusion that just as Eliot had needed the crew five years ago when they first began, Quinn needed something too; something bigger than himself.

“Look thanks but-”

“Nah, I’m serious Quinn, give us a call if you ever want a change of pace.”

“I don’t know if I could put up with your hacker,” Quinn laughed. “But, I, uh, I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” Eliot nodded. “So I’ll see you around then.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed. “I’ll see you ‘round.”


End file.
